Aria screamed.
Not out of fear. Not pain alone. But something deeper — primal, sacred.
Her body arched on the stone slab Ryker had covered in wolf pelts, sweat slicking her skin. The runes carved into the walls glowed faintly, pulsing in time with her contractions. Outside, the wind howled like mourning spirits, and the moon hung red and heavy in the sky — a blood moon.
"She's coming," Aria panted, clenching Ryker's hand with enough force to bruise.
"I know, love. I know," Ryker whispered, voice hoarse with helplessness. He knelt beside her, bare-chested, eyes wide, silver hair damp with sweat. "You're strong. You're so godsdamn strong."
Magic sparked from her fingers with every contraction. The cave walls shuddered. Energy coiled thick in the air.
"She's burning me from the inside," Aria choked out.
Ryker reached for the poultice he'd ground earlier — roots soaked in calming herbs — and pressed it to her forehead. But the moment it touched her, it burst into flames.
The baby wasn't just strong.
She was untamed.
Born of werewolf and mageblood, conceived under a moonless night and marked by both love and fury — she would not arrive quietly.
"Ryker," Aria gasped, "she's shifting."
"What?"
"She—" Her breath hitched. "Her wolf form—she's doing it inside me."
Ryker's blood turned to ice. No infant should have that kind of power. Not even an alpha-born.
"Hold on," he said, voice breaking. "Please, Aria. Just—"
But her scream drowned him out, and suddenly the cave exploded with light.
A wave of heat knocked Ryker backward.
The flames didn't burn. Not exactly. They licked at the walls, twining into shapes — wolves, stars, ancient sigils. The air trembled with something divine. Terrible. Beautiful.
Then… silence.
A single cry cut through the void.
Not human.
Not beast.
Something in between.
Ryker staggered to his feet, lungs burning. The smoke cleared.
And there, in Aria's arms, lay the child.
Tiny. Golden-skinned. A wild nest of silver-black hair. Eyes wide open — one gold, one violet. And the faint shimmer of fur fading from her skin.
"She… shifted back," Aria whispered, voice ragged.
Ryker fell to his knees.
He didn't cry.
But his body trembled as he reached for them both.
His mate.
His daughter.
"My star," he whispered. "My fire."
He touched the baby's forehead.
She blinked.
And a mark flared to life on her chest — a crescent moon encircled by flame.
A prophecy fulfilled.
A danger awakened.
They named her Lyra.
And for a few days, there was peace.
Aria slept curled around the baby, her magic low but steady. Ryker never left their side, always alert, always watching. He hunted in the mornings, tended the cave at night, and every time Lyra cried, he was there — faster than breath.
He didn't know what love felt like before.
Now, it was everything.
It was fear and pride and longing and bone-deep joy all tangled into one.
And it made him dangerous.
Because he would kill anyone who tried to take them from him.
It was the third night when the wind changed.
Ryker lifted his head, nose flaring.
Aria looked up from nursing Lyra. "What is it?"
"Smoke."
"No fire—"
"Not ours." He was already standing, eyes glowing gold. "They've found us."
Aria rose, wrapping Lyra in furs. "Can we run?"
"No time."
A howl split the air — not wolf. Not human.
The White Order had arrived.
And they brought more than blades.
The cave shook.
Runes cracked.
Ryker snarled, shifting mid-stride, silver fur rippling over muscle and bone.
Aria pressed a kiss to Lyra's forehead. "You stay quiet, alright? Mama's got you."
Then she stepped outside.
Magic met her like a punch to the chest.
Six figures stood in the clearing — cloaked in bone-white robes, their faces veiled, their hands glowing with celestial fire.
"Give us the child," one said.
"No," Aria spat. "She is mine."
"She is a threat."
"She is my daughter!"
They raised their palms.
Ryker roared, launching into the air, fangs bared.
Magic slammed into him mid-flight, knocking him back. He hit the earth hard, whimpering.
"RYKER!" Aria screamed.
Lyra cried.
And something inside Aria snapped.
Power surged — not magic, not human. Something older. Wilder.
A ring of fire erupted around her, driving the Order back. She raised her hands, summoning the storm inside her. Lightning crackled at her fingertips.
"You will not touch her."
The Order moved together, chanting.
But this time, Ryker was ready.
He shifted again — faster, stronger. The bond with Aria thrummed between them like a war drum.
She lent him her power.
He lent her his rage.
Together, they were unstoppable.
They tore through the first line — claws against magic, fire against steel. Ryker ripped through a Seer's shoulder, Aria blasted another into a tree. Blood spattered snow. Trees caught flame.
But then one of them slipped past.
A young woman.
Fast.
Silent.
She reached Aria.
Knocked her back.
Grabbed Lyra.
"No!" Aria shrieked.
The woman turned, running — baby in arms.
And then she fell.
Because Ryker had landed in front of her.
Shifted back to human.
Naked. Bleeding. Eyes wild.
"You do not touch what is mine."
He tore her throat out with his bare hands.
Lyra tumbled safely into the snow.
Aria scrambled to her, crying, shaking.
"She's okay," she gasped. "She's okay—"
But Lyra wasn't crying.
She was glowing.
Her mark pulsed.
Her eyes burned with gold.
And suddenly — the remaining Seers screamed.
Because Lyra had risen into the air.
A baby.
Floating.
Radiating magic.
And the earth answered.
Vines tore from the ground.
Wolves emerged from the woods — wild ones, old ones, summoned by the bloodline in her veins.
The Order fled.
Vanished.
Gone.
And Lyra drifted back into Aria's arms, blinking.
Then yawned.
Like nothing had happened.
Hours passed.
Ryker lay against the cave wall, exhausted, arm around Aria, Lyra nestled between them.
"I'm not afraid anymore," Aria whispered.
"Of them?"
"No. Of the future."
He kissed her temple. "Because I'm here?"
"No. Because she is."
Ryker looked down at his daughter.
And for the first time in his life, he truly believed in something bigger than pain.
"She's going to change everything," he said.
"She already has."
They fell asleep like that — heart to heart, family complete.
But the world outside stirred.
Others had seen the fire.
Others would come.
But for now…
There was only love.
And the promise of tomorrow.